What's Greater than Teeth

A clan of post-apocalyptic vikings attempt to interpret the meaning of an artifact of a long-extinct society.

The rad-winds picked up, and Pepsiko the Teeth Collector lowered his hood to protect his already fugly face from their burning touch. It had been a long journey through the rusted steel ruins of the Screened Ones’ fallen empire, but he was almost home, weary, but hopeful.

For he brought with him a great treasure.

He approached the gate of his enclave, where two chained Muskbots twitched frantically. Their heads displayed an ominous “X”, the mind-eating demon worshiped by the Screened Ones. The machines tore apart anybody who approached the entrance, unless you knew the secret phrase that disabled them.

“It’s Twitter not X.”

The Muskbots screeched and sparked before their automatic reset kicked in. Pepsiko strode by to the Hall of Banquets, where music and boisterous laughter overflowed through phone-brick walls.

Pepsiko entered, and the celebration ceased. Chief Gator-Ate, largest of the Fizz-Head Clan, spat bits of beef-pork as he bellowed, “Announce yourself! Who dares disturb our Supersummer Banquet?”

Pepsiko unhooded himself, and Gator-Ate sighed with relief. “Welcome home, Pepsiko! Tell me, have you found teeth?” Gator-Ate banged on his teeth-vault.

“I have brought something far more valuable, my liege.”

The audience eyed Pepsiko skeptically. What could be more valuable than teeth?

Pepsiko grinned, “I have found a relic of the Screened Ones.”

The hall collectively gasped, the children glanced about excitedly, and one man choked on his fizzy-drink. But the Elders were nervous. One of them, Fox-Noose the Neighsayer, shouted, “Take it back! We have no need for accursed things from left-swiping devils, world destroyers all!”

But Gator-Ate lifted a heavy palm, silencing him. His eyes lit up with greed, for it was own father who used the Screened One’s Fizzy Drink Device to purify the water and build their enclave so long ago. Standing up, he raised his leg of beef-pork. “Bring the Pelo-Ton! Let us witness Pepsiko’s deeds.”

Four women strained under the Pelo-ton’s weight: an iron contraption entrapping two large pedaled wheels to a system of gears and a shock-box, a bicycle perfectly designed to go nowhere.

Pepsiko then unveiled his treasure to the enraptured crowd. A large black box containing a window to a small, empty chamber. It bore the pronged tail matching the Pelo-Ton’s, and Pepsiko ceremoniously plugged it into the shock-box.

On its crown were metal-branded words, and Fox-Noose hobbled forward to read them. “It is the Screen-tongue. 3… D…. Printar.”

“3 Ds? What does it mean?” Gator-Ate asked.

Pepsiko answered, “Perhaps 3 Destinies.”

To which Fox-Noose muttered, “Or 3 Dooms.”

Koogle the Pervert spoke up helpfully, “I think it’s 3 Dicks.”

“Silence!” Gator-Ate banged his beef-pork like a gavel. “There is no use anticipating the Screened Ones. Activate it, Pepsiko.”

Pepsiko nodded. He climbed the Pelo-Ton and began to pedal. In response the machine sputtered to life. Lights appeared on the black surface, revealing it to be a dreaded Screen. The hall fell silent.

Suddenly, the Printar screeched. A needle appeared in the empty chamber, and an awful grinding noise filled the air. The less brave backed against the walls of the banquet hall, but the young and foolish came closer. And Pepsiko pedaled.

And pedaled.

And kept pedaling for another hour.

Much of the excitement was lost at this point, and most of the food had been eaten up. Many were asking, “What is it even doing?” and “How long is this going to take exactly?”

Disgruntled, Gator-Ate barked an order. “Pepsiko pedal faster!”

“I’m trying my liege!” Pepsiko was panting. He was a traveler, acquainted to long distances and hard journeys, but the fearsome Pelo-Ton could drain the life force from even great warriors.

Some left the banquet hall or fell asleep, though the children still gathered around to watch the Printar at work. Others came to cheer on poor Pepsiko. Another two hours passed.

And finally, the grinding stopped. The Printar emitted a high-pitched, cheerful chirp, and Pepsiko tumbled to the floor, gasping. “It is done.”

The window opened, and children gasped and chattered about what they were seeing.

Gator-Ate stormed forward, tossing them aside. “Let me see it!”

He reached into the chamber, and pulled out the Printar’s creation. But when he held it up to the newly excited crowd, his face contained neither fear nor joy, but confusion.

“What is this?”

In Gator-Ate’s hand was a small, plastic statue depicting a woman in frilly, multicolored garb. Her eyes and her breasts were proportionally impossible, and her hair was pink. In her hand was a heart-shaped scepter, and she was frozen in a dancing pose.

Those still attending the Supersummer Banquet gathered around, speculating. “Perhaps the Screened Ones worshiped this woman?” “Is it a weapon?” “Maybe it comes to life!”

Gator-Ate shook his head. “I don’t understand. It is simply a statue of a strange-looking woman. Why would the Screened Ones make such a thing? It is useless!”

Shakily Pepsiko rose to his feet. “Perhaps… perhaps the uselessness was the point.” Gator-Ate looked at him quizzically, but Pepsiko continued. “I have ventured far throughout the lands, seen many of their ruins, seen their skeletons hunched over on the Screens that killed them. And I’ve come to understand them a little. The Screened Ones were not satisfied by ordinary life. They wanted more than the mundane life we have, that of high-speed diesel races through hell-storms, of chainsaw battles in the blood arena, of beef-pork feasts in the great hall.”

Fox-Noose interrupted, “They were insatiable and inscrutable, corrupted by their Screens! To understand them is to invite madness.”

“Perhaps,” Pepsiko answered, “but they were noble in their own way. They sought a sense of purpose and beauty beyond their mortal condition, desiring the very stars for themselves. They wanted to be more… but in doing so they left-swiped the world.”

There was a somber silence in the hall, as all regarded the strange figurine.

Then, Koogle the Pervert shrugged his shoulders. “I think it’s a sex thing.”

And Pepsiko shrugged back, smiling wistfully. “It could be both.”

---

Words from the Author

Hello all! I’m excited to share one of my favorite stories with all of you. “What’s Greater Than Teeth” was a real group effort, with extra credit to Miguel for some of the punny names. My first drafts had slightly less personable characters, with very Mad-Maxy sounding names like “Gortash” and such, since I have a tendency to really lean into a theme, but the final product had much broader appeal, and ended up winning a round of the NYC Midnight contest.

The original contest prompt was satire with the required item being a 3D printer. I really struggled to come up with a thought, but when I first pictured a character powering a 3D printer by hand, I was cackling, and knew I had a fun concept.

Generally, you can expect a bit of absurdity and comedy from my work, and a lot of high-concept. I’d say I’m probably the least artsy of our trio, so you can expect to relax after reading some of George’s heavier stuff!